Conflict of Interests
by stabler99
Summary: Stabler must prove the innocence of a stockbroker before she becomes a killer's next victim. Something sad happens to him later on in the story. This is my first fanfic; please read and review.
1. Fatigue

_This is my first fanfic. I came up with this idea on my way to a soccer game, so hopefully it'll be good._

Conflict Of Interests

New York City Police Department

Special Victims Unit HQ

March 18

Elliot Stabler's forehead was drenched in sweat, despite the fact that it was 20 degrees outside, and the heater inside was less than second-rate. He hadn't slept in 48 hours, and instead of adding sugar to his coffee, he was adding it to his desk and then "drinking" from his pencil holder. _Once the lab results get back, I'll be able to get some sleep,_ he thought. _Unless, of course, the data turns out to be inconclusive._

In that case, Elliot and his partner, Detective Olivia Benson, would be back to square one on their current case. March was turning out to be a very bad month for Detective Stabler. New York City had recently seen a sharp increase in violent crimes, and every law enforcement member was forced to work double and triple over time. As a result, Elliot and Kathy Stabler's attempted reconciliation was falling apart, as Kathy continued to accuse him of cheating with Olivia. There was no truth in the allegations, though Elliot struggled to keep unwanted feelings out of his relationship with his partner.

Elliot's eyelids drooped. He was so tired, sooo tired, so-

"Elliot?" Olivia tapped him on the shoulder. Her short reddish-brown hair was slightly disheveled; other than that, it was impossible to tell that she hadn't had a good night sleep in days either.

Stabler lifted his head and ran a hand through his hair, wincing slightly at the receding hairline. "Lab results back yet?" he asked.

"Yes, and you'll be happy to know that this case is closed." She rubbed her forehead. "Wanna get something to eat?"

Elliot didn't answer, because he was slumped over, sound asleep.

A cold hand clasped Elliot by the shoulder. He abruptly sat up in bewilderment, knocking his now-cold cup of coffee to the floor with his elbow. Captain Cragen peered down at him, his round eyes narrowed in their usual expression: annoyance and apprehension, both usually caused by Elliot.

"Morning Captain," he yawned. "Why the hell did you wake me up?"

The no-nonsense captain frowned at the detective, irritation etched across his prominent forehead. "If it's not too much trouble," he said sarcastically. "You and Olivia have another case." He allowed himself a small smile. "And don't bother complaining, either."

"Who's complaining?"

A moment later, Olivia showed up. "It's time to go," Elliot informed her.

"Terrific," she groaned as she put her coat back on.

_Not much happened in this chapter, but the rest of it will be better, I promised._


	2. Just Backup

Glenbrook Heights Apartments

678 27th Street

March 18

Just like any other crime scene, this one was surronded by yellow tape, and people hoping to catch a glimpse of a dead body. This particular group of lowlifes always

annoyed the SVU detectives, and, due to sleep deprivation, Stabler and Benson were _not _in the mood to deal.

"Unless you're a witness, please leave so we can do our job," Olivia said calmly. Not suprisingly, no one moved.

"Get lost, or we'll arrest you all for loitering!" snapped Elliot.

"You can't do that," one man sniffed.

"Oh yeah?" Elliot got right in his face. "Watch me."

The crowd melted away, leaving one woman, who was the 9-1-1 caller. One of the first responders, Officer Gates, turned to the detectives. "The witness says she

came down the stairs this morning and tripped over the body of one Brian Caldwell, her neighbor." He lifted the sheet off of the victims head. He had been shot.

"This looks like a gunshot wound," Olivia said. "Why'd you cal us?"

Gates simultaneously shrugged one shoulder and stifled a yawn. "All of the homicide detectives were too busy to come down here. Sorry, but Special Victims

isn't exactly the most busy department."

"So we're backup, and our victims are second-class. That's really nice," Elliot snarled.

The officer's spine stiffened. "I don't need your sarcasm, Detective."

"I'm sure you don't."

Olivia held up a hand. "Okay, Elliot, enough. It doesn't matter whether he died of a gunshot wound or a drug overdose."

"I think the perp used a 9mm," Gates offered.

"Oh, now he's a ballistics expert," Elliot sneered.

"Elliot!" Olivia hissed. Gates raised both arms in surrender and walked away. Olivia bent down towards the body. "Why do you always do that?"

Elliot grinned. "Do what?"

Olivia smiled and shook her head. "You know, I think we might have to give our first responder some credit. I think 9mm sounds about right for the callibur."

She began to stand up when Elliot grabbed her arm. "What's wrong?"

Elliot put on plastic gloves reached inside the dead man's coat. "I think the killer left a note." He cleared his throat and began to read. "'To whomever finds this

man, kindly inform Isis Black that she's next.' At least they were polite about it."

"Isis Black- why does that name sound familiar?"

Stabler stood up and put the letter into an evidence bag. "We'll find that out, now won't we?"


	3. Ice Cold

Special Victims Unit Squadroom

March 18

"According to the witness, Brian Caldwell had a girlfriend that lived with him, one Leeah Szlasky" Olivia said as she and Elliot did a computerized people search for

Isis Black.

"I think Fin and Munch went to see at work," Elliot replied, then pointed at the screen. "There we go. Isis Black, 30 years old, stockbroker at Walter Brown

Brokerage Services."

"That name still sounds familiar to me," Olivia said.

"Did you write the note?" Elliot asked sarcastically.

"Yeah, and you're next," she said, grinning.

"Let's go get this over with," he sighed.

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Walter Brown Brokerage House

207 Wall Street

2nd Floor

March 18

The first thing that Elliot noticed about the Walter Brown reception room was how large and bare it was. Other than two hard metal chairs, a wooden reception

desk with a platinum blonde secretary behind it, and a potted plant, there wasn't anything there. The secretary looked up from her magazine in alarm when she saw the

two detectives. "How may I help you?" she asked Elliot, ignoring Olivia completly.

"Is Isis Black in?" he asked.

"Do you have an appointment?" the secretary cooed.

"She's my cousin." He leaned in towards the desk. "My sister and I are here to suprise her."

The receptionist giggled. "Oh, so she's not your girlfriend?"

Olivia looked up from a copy of _Forbes _and rolled her eyes, then went back to reading.

"I guess you don't look like a serial killer or anything, so I'll let you through without telling Ms. Black."

_What would Kathy think? _Elliot thought. Even though she'd cheated on him once before, he desperately wanted to prove that he was a good husband, and flirting

with secretaries was not the way to go about doing that. Kathy claimed that the only reason why she'd cheated was because she was under the impression that he was

doing the same thing. He'd said time and time again that he would never do that, and it hurt that she refused to believe him. Although he knew that it was possible that

she was trying to make him feel guilty to justify her own actions, he still felt that he had something to prove, especially since he'd had feelings for Olivia for a long time. _I'll _

_find a way to make everything alright, even if I have a nervous breakdown in the process._

"Elliot? Are you alright?"

Elliot realized that he had been spacing out. He forced a smile. "Yeah, I'm okay."

The interior of Walter Brown was full of cubicles surronded by offices. Phones were ringing everywhere, with people shouting orders into their mouthpieces, each

broker trying to out scream the others. Suddenly, a short redhaired man collided with Olivia, who Elliot caught before she fell. The man's cell phone clattered to the floor,

and he would have joined it if it wasn't for a passing intern. He opened his mouth, perhaps to tell off the two detectives, when he realized that they weren't co-workers, but

rather potential investors.

He extended his hand, a false smile plastered on his face. "Chandler Denison, at your service. Are you folks looking to invest today?"

"We're looking for Isis Black," Olivia informed him. "Do you know where her office is?"

"More of her clients, eh?" It was a rhetorical question that caused Chandler's smile to dim.

"You could say that."

"Straight down this hall, there's about eight executive offices. You want the second one."

The door was open slightly, so the detectives just walked in. Sitting at a desk along the far wall, with her back to a window, was a woman with dead white skin

and dark hair, wearing a black suit. She hung up the phone that she'd been trading stocks over and turned to the detectives, cold blue eyes narrowed slightly. "Can I help

you?" she asked, her voice just as cold as her appearance.

Olivia closed the door as Elliot showed the woman his badge. "Are you Isis Black?" he asked. When she nodded, he said, "I'm Elliot Stabler; this is my partner,

Olivia Benson. We're with the NYPD Special Victims Unit."

Isis shook both of their hands firmly. Pale face revealing nothing, she gestured at two chairs in front of her desk and asked them to sit. "Now, tell me what this is

about," she said, sitting across from them. "I wasn't raped."

"Do you know a man named Brian Caldwell?" Elliot asked.

"Yes I do. We went to NYU together. I majored in Finance; he majored in graphic design. I set him up with my roommate; now they're engaged."

"That's the extent of your relationship?" said Elliot.

"We considered dating, but decided against it," she said dismissively. "Why? Is he in trouble?"

The detectives exchanged glances. "I'm afraid he was killed this morning," Olivia said gently.

Any faintest traces of color that might have been in Isis's face drained away. "He's dead? Have you told Leeah yet?"

"We had another one of our detectives tell her this morning."

Isis's face remained emotionless. Elliot reached inside his coat and pulled out a copy of the letter found by Brian's body. He set it in front of the broker, and sat

back in his chair, studying her expression carefully. She read the letter and set it aside. "Whoever killed him wants me dead too," she stated, as though commenting on

the weather.

"Do you know anyone that would want to harm you?" Olivia asked.

Isis smirked. "I'm one of the highest paid brokers on Wall Street- male or female. My clients are both superrich individual investors and multibillion dollar

corporations. I give _legal _investment tips to the highest bidder, and I never lose money. I've made a lot of people- myself included- very wealthy, and both their rivals and

my rivals hate me for it." She held up a copy of _Forbes. _"Half the people in here are my clients; the other half want me whacked."

"Anyone with a relationship with Brian Caldwell?"

Elliot's eyes never left her face, but during the entire interview he saw no cracks in Isis's stony mask. "I doubt it," she said. "I like to keep business and my

personal life seperate."

_Join the club, _Elliot thought. He took one of Isis's business cards and threw one of his own on her desk. "We'll be in touch," he said.

"I'll look forward to hearing from you," Isis said, with more than a hint of sarcasm.


	4. A Detective's Theory

Sandy's Cafe

Brooklyn, New York

March 18

Olivia watched Elliot over the rim of her coffee mug in concern, the same feeling in her stomach that she normally reserved for vicitms. His

marriage and state of mind were falling apart, that much was apparant. She didn't fully understand why he stayed with Kathy after she

cheated on him the first time. It was ironic how he was so distrustful and abrasive when it came to dealing with perps, but when it came to

his family, he wore his heart on his sleeve. _Maybe she's telling the truth, _Olivia thought. _Maybe she's done with cheating. If that's the case, _

_then their family will go on as it always had, and perhaps some state of peace of mind will return to Elliot._

Elliot set down the menu he was reading and leaned back in his chair, eyes closed. "I have a feeling this will be a tough case," he said.

"Why do you say that?"

He opened his eyes, brows raised. "We have to protect this woman, but we don't even know who or what we're protecting her from, or even if she

does, in fact, need protecting."

"You don't think she's involved in the murder, do you?" Olivia asked.

Elliot folded his arms across his chest. "Maybe not, but I think she knows something, and we don't have any way of proving that she's withholding

information."

"Which means we should try this from a different angle."

"What time does Leeah Szlasky get off of work again?"

Apartment of

Leeah Szlasky and Brian Caldwell

#4C 678 27th Street

"One of your detectives already told me about what happened," Leeah Szlasky said. Her eyes were red from crying.

"We know that you know about Brian," Olivia said gently. "But we don't know if you're safe here."

"Thanks, but I already figures _that _one out," Leeah said as a single tear rolled down her cheek. "I'm moving in with my mom, in Westchester."

Elliot saw a suitcase next to her. She was terrified, and it was no wonder that she wanted to leave town. "Would you mind if we asked you a

few questions?" he asked.

Leeah shrugged. "Go ahead."

"Do you know of anyone that would want to hurt Brian?"

"No, actually. He didn't owe anyone money, he didn't do drugs, and he wasn't in gang."

"What about Isis Black? Would anyone want to hurt her that you know of?"

"I can think of quite a few people," Leeah said sadly. "Which is sad. I mean, I know that she's not really the best person, and I've heard that she

would sell her own Grandma if she thought she'd make a profit, but she's had a hard life."

"What do you mean?" asked Olivia.

"I haven't heard anywhere near the whole story, but from what I've heard, things would have been very different for her if there'd been someone like you

around."

"Uh, don't take this the wrong way, but what kind of relationship did Brian and Isis have?"

"They've been friends- I mean, they had been friends- since college. She's the one that introduced us. They might have done business together."

"What did Brian do for a living?"

"He owned a graphic design business."

"Did he start it himself?"

"No; he 'acquired it' somehow. It's called Avenue Graphics, if that helps you any." Her eyes grew wide. "Isis hasn't been attacked too, has she?"

"No," Olivia reassured her.

Elliot gave Leeah his business card. "If you have any questions or information, just call."

"Thank you." She handed him her cell phone number. "Call me if you find something out."

The detectives left. "Where to now?" asked Olivia.

"Avenue Graphics, anyone?"

_Kinda boring, I know, but the next chapter will have more action in it (and no, by action I do not mean a stock market crash, in case you were wondering!) _


	5. The Pen Is Mightier

Office of

David S. Bowen

Avenue Graphics

Brooklyn, New York

"Brian's dead?" exclaimed company vice-president David Bowen. He and the detectives were sitting in his cluttered office drinking iced tea (or, in Bowen's case, a large glass of whiskey).

"I can't believe this is happening," Bowen said hoarsely, twisting a gold wedding band around his finger. "Do you have any"- he swallowed- "suspects yet?"

"Where were you between 5 and 7:30 this morning?" asked Elliot, using an approximate time of death range.

David frowned, thinking. "I don't remem- wait... I was here."

"Can anyone verify that?"

"Only the security cameras. I 've been here since 7 a.m. yesturday."

"Why?"

He stared off into the distance, brown eyes sad and hollow. "No place else to go. I drank a bottle of Jack Daniels and fell asleep around ten." He glared at something that wasn't present. "I bet he forgot to bring her orange juice in bed. She'll dump that sorry bastard, too."

Elliot flinched. This man could very well be him- living at work or in a hotel, with no place to go. Having nothing but the knowledge that he is completly worthless, that everything he fought for was all a sham. He shook his head and returned to the conversation.

"Before Brian, who ran the company?" asked Olivia.

"Rupert Clempson. A ruthless, arrogant asshole who would have someone else shoot you- he would never get his hands dirty- just as soon as look at you. The only thing he has going for him is his aggressiveness. He was running the company into the ground, so we executives were all glad when Brian took over. I was suprised that Clempson sold..." Bowen inhaled sharply. "You don't suppose it was a hostile takeover, do you? Oh my God, that means that..." He trailed off, eyes wide with terror.

"If it was, wouldn't you know about it?" reasoned Elliot.

"If it was legal, then yeah. All I remember was getting a memo saying that the sale of my shares to some businesswoman was 'essential to the survival of the company'. If we all screwed over Clempson, then he's bound to be furious. Did I mention that he has one of the worst tempers since Vlad the Impaler?"

"So you think Clempson had something to do with this?"

"If he did, then I'm next." Bowen buried his face in his hands. "This is too much."

The two detectives left the man with his whiskey. "It's getting late," Olivia said. "Wanna call it a night and go home?"

Just then, they heard a loud crack. "Gunshot," breathed Elliot.

They raced back to David's office, weapons in hand. He was lying face down in a pool of blood, a pistol pressed against his temple. A note was clutched in his other hand. "'You were right, Sylvie,'" Olivia read. "'I am nothing.'" She checked his vitals, then radioed for an ambulance. "Lights and sirens aren't necessary."

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The Stabler residence in Queens was dark and empty. Elliot dropped his keys on the kitchen table, the clatter sound louder than usual. _Just like the gunshot. _

"I'm home," he called tentatively.

There was a note on the table. "'If you ever decide to come home, I'm just letting you know that I took the kids out to dinner. -Kathy'" Elliot crumpled it up and threw it aside, wishing he could do the same with his problems. He took two sleeping pills and trudged into the living room where he collapsed on the couch. The last thing he saw before he fell asleep was the troubled face of David Bowen, a man who never got a chance to start over.

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SVU Squadroom

March 19

"Let's take a look at your suspects, shall we?" said John Munchas he hung pictures of several suspects on the bulletin board.

"Don't you have work to do?" asked Olivia in mock exasperation.

"Fin is MIA, so I might as well lend my insight to you two," he said.

"First we have Rupert Clempson, owner of several mid-sized New York/ Jersey based companies. Then, we have Isis Black, stockbroker/ possible target. David Bowen used to be one, but he blew his brains out," said Elliot. "My money's on Clempson."

"Why?" asked Munch.

Elliot half-shrugged. "We haven't talked to him yet."

A.D.A Kasey Novak happened to be passing by when she saw Isis Black's picture on the bulletin board. "Isis Black's one of your suspects? Good luck with that."

"Why do you say that?" said Elliot.

"I used to work in Corporate, remember? I tried to convict her for insider trading once. As you can see, that didn't work very well. Then, she was a suspect in a huge illegal corporate takeover/ embezzlement scam. She wasn't even indicted."

"Did you say corporate takeover?"

"Everything's alleged," Kasey said flatly.

"What a day," sighed SVU psychologist George Huang as he walked over to the detectives from the newly installed soda machine, a can of generic cola in his hand. He set it down by Elliot and rubbed his eyes.

"Thanks, Doc." Elliot opened the can and drank all of its contents in one huge gulp.

"You're a real pain in the ass sometimes, Stabler."

The detective threw the empty can over his shoulder and grinned. "Always."

"Whoa," said Fin Tuotuola, as the can hit him on the head. "What was that for? I'm hand delivering your lab reports for you and everything."

Kasey tapped Huang on the shoulder. "I need to go over something with you later, okay?"

"Same time, same place? I'll be there."

The A.D.A. left. "What was that all about?" asked Olivia.

George smiled benignly and didn't say anything.

Elliot opened the file Fin brought for him. "Hey Liv, it looks like some of the fingerprints on the letter had a match."

"Let me see." Olivia frowned. "The letter was written on paper with a Walter Brown watermark on it, and, wait, some of the partials belong to Isis Black."

"I don't think she did it, though."

"We won't know for sure unless we talk to her again." She set down the file, and the two detectives left.

"You're welcome," Fin muttered.

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_See, I told you more would happen in this chapter. And in case anyone thinks they have this case solved, think again because I LOVE ironic plot twists! HeeHeeHee!_


	6. Another Kind of Broker

Isis was on the phone with a client (_nothing new there, _thought Elliot) when the two detectives walked in. "Ever heard of knocking?" she said sarcastically.

Elliot tapped lightly on the wall. "Happy now?"

"I don't mean to be rude or anything, but what the hell do you want? I already answered your questions."

"We have a few more for you," said Olivia.

"Such as?" Isis narrowed her cold eyes.

"Such as why your fingerprints were all over your own death threat letter," said Elliot. "And why it was printed on paper with _your _firm's watermark on it."

"If it had the Walter Brown watermark on it, then I probably touched it at one time or another. I'm sure it doesn't take a detective to figure _that _out," she said condescendingly.

Elliot opened his mouth to reply when someone knocked on the partially closed door. A young, darkhaired intern who bore a slight resemblance to Isis walked in, arms full of paperwork. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" she asked timidly.

"No," said Isis. "They were just leaving." The intern set the papers down and left. "So, like I said, you were just leaving."

Elliot clenched his jaw slightly, anger coursing through his veins. "Actually," he said, struggling to keep his voice even. "We have a few more questions." _Bitch, _he thought.

"Where were you yesturday morning between 5:30 and 7:00 a.m.?" Olivia asked.

"Here." She gave a list of people who could account for her whereabouts.

Elliot took a deep breath. He wasn't sure why he had been so angry. _Keep it together. She's a potential victim- not a suspect. _

"Are you just going to stand there doing breathing exercises, or do you have more questions?" Isis sneered.

Elliot clenched and unclenched his fists. "That's funny. What's really funny is the fact that you're the highest paid broker in your firm with the largest office. Your boss is a man, right?"

"Yes. I don't see why-"

"You're an attractive woman. I'm sure your boss would agree- if you catch my drift."

"What are you suggesting, detective?"

Elliot shrugged. "Investments by day, and by night... well, you have to do something with this office."

"I'm not that kind of broker."

"Of course not." The sarcasm was dripping.

"Does the name Rupert Clempson mean anything to you?" inquired Olivia.

"Should it?"

"You tell us!" snapped Elliot.

"No." Isis met his gaze unblinkingly. "It doesn't."

"We'll be in touch."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

"What was that all about?" demanded Olivia once the two of them were outside.

"I lost my temper, okay? I'm sorry. I treated her like a suspect instead of a potential victim."

"Isn't she a suspect, though?"

Elliot shook his head. "I don't think she did it. For one thing, she wouldn't have written a fake death threat note on traceable paper, and she wouldn't leave fingerprints. I think she knows who did it, though."

"Let's go talk to Clempson."

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"I'm sorry, but Mr. Clempson's out of town," his personal secretary, a woman named Ginger Malkowitz, said. "I think he's in Chicago."

"You think, or you know?" said Elliot.

"I think. He never tells me where he goes; I think he's afraid someone will follow him or something."

"We're investigating a homicide," Olivia explained, then set down her business card. "Call us when he gets back into town."

"He skipped town after the death of the man who stole his company," said Olivia as they drove home.

Elliot smirked. "How convienient."


	7. Revelations

"Damn I'm tired," yawned Elliot. He was sitting at his desk in the SVU squadroom, trying to stay awake.

Olivia hung up her phone, a huge smile on her face. "What are you so happy about?" her partner asked.

"I didn't want to say anything before, just in case it didn't work out," she said excitedly. "But I'm going to be a mom!"

Elliot sat back in stunned silence. "You- You're pregnant?" He tried to force a smile. _I didn't even know she had a new boyfriend._ "I'm, uh, happy for you."

Olivia laughed. "I'm not pregnant. I'm adopting a little girl. But how would you feel if I was pregnant?"

_What kind of question is that? _He felt his neck turn red. "I- I would"- _Beat the father to a bloody pulp. Wait- what's wrong with me? It's not like we have anymore than a friend/partner relationship. Though sometimes, I wish... _"I would congradulate you and, uh, the father."

"And if you were... Never mind." Silence.

"What's her name?" Elliot asked after what seemed like an eternity rather than 30 seconds.

"Inocenta. She's moving in next week Wednesday."

Elliot put a hand on her shoulder. "Good luck; you're going to need it."

"Thanks." She yawned. "I think I might go home and sleep for a few hours."

"Good idea. If Kathy's still awake, I'll make her dinner or something." Although deep down inside, he was kind of hoping that he wouldn't have to face her that night.

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Elliot took a deep breath before unlocking his front door, a bouquet of roses in his hand. All the lights were on, so he assumed she was awake. _I'll suprise her, then, _he thought. He heard laughter coming from the living room. _Good; she'll be in a good mood._

Imagine his suprise when he walk in and saw his wife in another man's arms, a man that was drinking Irish hot chocolate out of his '# 1 Dad' mug.

The bouquet fell to the floor, petals flying everywhere. Kathy and the unknown man stopped laughing abruptly. "Who the hell are you?" Elliot growled. "And what the fuck are you doing in _my _house with _my _wife?"

"So this is your husband," the man said. "You were right: possession issues."

"Eric," Kathy said in a warning tone.

Something inside Elliot snapped. "Possession issues?" he laughed. "You haven't seen issues yet." He then lunged forward, grabbed Eric by the throat, and slammed him against the wall.

"Police brutality! Police brutality!" Eric yelled stupidly.

"You want police brutality, huh? Do you, you stupid bastard!" He threw Eric to the floor and repeatedly kicked him in the ribs.

"Elliot! Stop!" Kathy grabbed him by the shoulder, but he threw her off. She then slapped him across the face.

"You-your superior will hear about this," sniveled Eric.

"Go to hell!" The enraged detective grabbed the nearest object and threw it at him, narrowly missing his head. He crawled out the door, yelling, "Bye, sweetheart!" as he left.

The Stablers stood in stunned silence. "You lied to me," Elliot said in a dangerously low voice. "You promised me that you would never cheat again."

"I think it would be best if you left," Kathy said shakily.

"Why?" Kathy didn't answer. "Answer me!" Elliot shouted. "Am I nothing to you? Do my feelings mean nothing to you? You insisted that I was the one cheating when all along I was just a way to justify your actions!" He felt overwhelmed by the hurt and betrayal.

"I'm just not in love with you anymore," Kathy said quietly, tears in her eyes. "All you do is work! Don't you feel like our love isn't strong like it once was?"

It was true. Elliot had felt as though his feelings had cooled. "But that doesn't give you the right to lie to me! We're friends, and friends don't lie to each other."

"What- holier-than-thou Olivia has never lied to you?" Kathy snapped bitterly.

"Leave Olivia out of this. It has nothing to do with her and you know it," Elliot growled. "After all of this, after 20 years and four kids, that's it?"

"It was over long before now." The tears were gone. "Move on Elliot; I have."

As Elliot walked out the door of what had been his living room, something crunched under his foot. He bent down. It was his '# 1 Dad' mug, or at least what was left of it. He bent down and picked up one of the shards. It was sharp, and it cut his hand. He stood up, blood pouring from the laceration, but he was numb to that pain. He knew that he would never be the same again.

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"Elliot?" Munch looked up in alarm at the sight of Detective Stabler standing in the squadroom, clutching a suitcase in his bloody hand.

"I'm moving in," he said, his voice both dejected and detached.

John nodded knowingly. "Do you need-"

"No." With that Elliot took his suitcase and went into the breakroom where he passed out facedown on the floor.

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_See, I told you that one of the chapters would be sad._


End file.
